cry, cry for you
It was an interesting weekend. Much as if my words could drift into the sepia toned stage that I sat upon and drank myself into submission on. on and on and on I blacked out and remember only shattered pieces of last week. I like a good fragmented memory for which phone messages only provide clues to. The fashion show was remarkable, but the chat I had with a friend only meant more. Success is in the ones you surround yourself with and for that I feel successful. Now remember to look on down the bridge and look for me to start putting photos back up.